Penny Lane
by RockTheWorld
Summary: William Miller knows he can't live without Penny Lane. But when he learns she might be able to live without him, what will he do? Will become longer as I get free time. T as of now, may progress to M as the story continues.
1. Penny Lane

William Miller rolled over, rubbed sleep from his eyes, and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up and scratched himself - his balls, his hair, his chest. He walked over to his record collection and picked out _Tommy_, lowering the arm and listening to The Who fill his room. He walked to his closet, throwing a Stillwater t-shirt over his heads, jumping in to his jeans and throwing his bag over his shoulder. He was off for another day at work, another day editing for Rolling Stone.

Ever since the final interview with Jeff, William felt like all he did was edit other peoples work. As other people sent in useless drivel about Bowie and AC/DC and other bands that William liked, but not enough to write about. And he had to read it all. It was his job. It only paid $2.75 an hour, but it kept him in all the records and passes that he wanted, which was more than he could have ever asked for.

"Hi mom," he said, as he walked in to the kitchen and found his mom pouring a glass of orange juice, a plate of pancakes already sitting on the counter.

"Hi, honey," she said, reaching up and kissing his forehead. He smiled and took the glass or orange juice, walking out the door, waving over his shoulder. "But, I made you breakfast," she said as the door slammed.

William knew it was wrong to just walk out on his mom, but he hadn't really been in a talking mood for a while. He was going through Penny withdrawal. He wanted to see her, wanted to touch her, wanted to hear her voice. It had been almost seven months since he had last seen her, even longer since the days of _Tiny Dancer, _and William was worried that she was forgetting him. That thought was terrifying him, because he sure wasn't forgetting her.

The walk to the office was usually long enough for him to think about lots of things, including which pieces he wanted to pass on for the magazine. But lately, the only thing he had been thinking about was the first time he had met Penny Lane - and he replayed the moment over and over in his head until he was in his office, and then again and again until he went to bed that night. Some people called it a sickness. He called it Penny Lane.

_We are not groupies. We don't sleep with the band. We inspire. We - we are band aids. _

_I always tell the girls - never get serious. Never get serious, never get hurt. Never get hurt, you can keep having fun - and if you ever get sad, you just go to the record store to see all your friends. _

_You are home._

Anything she said. Everything she said. That stupid coat, those huge sunglasses, the smile that always let you know that she knew more than you did, even if she didn't know what.

That day, when William walked in to work, things felt different. The air was…off. In a way he hadn't felt since the day his foot hit the floor of the Stillwater tour bus. He stopped in with the general reciptionist and asked if he had any messages. Usually she just scoffed and waved him on - he wasn't high up on the magazine food chain, but today she handed a small, regulation-pink paper.

Penny Lane was in France. And William Miller was going to interview her. Tomorrow.

_Hold me closer tiny dancer. _


	2. Hostess Extraordinare

"William Miller."

"Penny Lane."

"Accueil, mon amie."

"Thanks," William said, walking in to the small entry way. His head spun a little. He wasn't supposed to be here. Well, technically, he was supposed to be here. But being here felt to weird. A day ago, he had been on a plane, nodding in and out of sleep and he hurtled to a different country and the women he hadn't seen in months. And now here he was. He was walking in to her small, grungy apartment. One room. A mattress on the floor. Beaded curtains in place of a door to the bathroom. No kitchen. Not the idea of glamour William knew that Penny wanted.

"The place is, uh, nice."

"Merci. I just moved in the other day. Did you know that Hendrix is doing a tour of Europe?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"I knew you would. After all, you are The Enemy. Anyway, I met up with Sapphire and her and I were in Belgium for almost two weeks, on Jimi's card. Let me just tell you, the chocolate in Belgium-"

"Why didn't you call me?" The words escaped his lips faster than he had meant them too. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was here on business. HE was here to interview Penny Lane for Rolling Stone, some human interest story about the girls behind the great bands. He wasn't here to question or reminisce, or ask her why she didn't call. He wasn't supposed to. But he did.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, Penny. Please. That's not who you are. You're a Lady."

Penny looked down and smile. No one ever called her by her real name. It was a foreign name to her. Lady Goodman was a little girl with bows in her hair and buckles on her shoes who loved ponies and dolls and tea parties and was mommies little princess and daddies good girl. Penny Lane wore her hair down and loved tye-dye and camel-skin cotes and aviators, who slept with rock stars and fell in love and never talked to her mom or dad and loved music and drinks and going to the record store. Lady and Penny hadn't been the same in a long, long time.

"William, mon amie. Please, have a seat."

"I don't want to sit."

"Suit yourself." Penny turned and walked to her bed, across the room, lying down and cocking her head up on her elbow. "It's going to be rather hard to do the interview from this far away, but I suppose if I yell loud enough, we should be alright." Reluctantly, William smiled and walked across the room, sitting down on the floor against the wall.

"So tell me, Penny Lane, what was it like being with Russell from Stillwater? Do you believe you had any kind of influence on the music?" William continued to ask questions, and Penny continued to answer. She never gave a true answer, William noticed. She had long ago become the master of the double entendre, the misty eyed question as a response, the coy laugh and the refusal to answer. William wasn't sure how long the interview lasted, but when he looked up again, it was dark outside and he was ravished.

"I am in drastic need of sustenance," he muttered, opening Penny's one window, trying desperately to get some more air recirculating through the small apartment.

"Ah, yes. The need for food is one felt by many. How would you like me to take you to the best little French café in the area?"

"Would you do that?"

"Would I do that? You drastically underestimate my powers as a hostess, William Miller."

"I've never estimated your powers as a hostess. You've never hosted me before."

"Touché, my friend. Touché. Well, tonight consider me your hostess extraordinaire. I will show you the best restaurant, the best cocktails bar, and the best club this side of the rive Seine."

"Alright."

"Then just let me get ready." She shimmied off the mattress and walked to her bathroom, the only other room in the small apartment. Through the cracked door, William could see all of Penny's clothes hanging from the shower curtain, spilling in to the tub and out on to the floor. He wondered where she showered, but decided that he didn't want to know. He watched as she changed her shirt, the smooth skin of her back sliding up and down his spine. He watched as she fluffed her hair, smoothing on some lipstick and sliding a pair of aviators over them. Suddenly, she was standing in front of him.

"You know, you never did tell me why you didn't call. I was waiting to hear from you."

She took a hold of his hand and pulled him up, leading him out the door. As she turned to lock it, he caught the slightest trace of her perfume. The sent almost knocked him out. It was just so…Penny.

"All in due time, William. I promise you, all will be answered in good time."

_I leave tomorrow night,_ William thought. _Due time better come before then, or I might just go crazy._

_Count the headlights on the highway._


End file.
